


Close Enough

by starscrearn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Loneliness, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrearn/pseuds/starscrearn
Summary: He couldn’t keep doing this. It probably wasn’t healthy. But as he watched the mech on-screen purring praise to the shorter bot under him, he couldn’t bring himself to turn it off.





	Close Enough

Rung clutched the pillow close to his chest, muffling the brightening light from behind his sparkglass. Uncovered, his spark wasn’t enough to light the room entirely, but he found he preferred the room’s current dimness. It made the room seem closer, more intimate; it  _ was _ his habsuite, but Rung spent so little time there these days that it needed all the help it could get to feel familiar. He might not have been there at all that night but for his visit to Swerve’s earlier, alone despite the crowd. He felt almost painfully out of place among all the bots swapping stories about what they’d gotten into on the last mission or the places they’d visited while planetside for some downtime. (He’d completely missed the last stop-- hadn’t realized they’d docked until they were launching again.) Rung didn’t stay at the bar long, instead returning to his habsuite to do something he’d sworn a long time ago he’d give up. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. It probably wasn’t healthy. But as he watched the pair on-screen curled together as they stroked over each others’ plating, he couldn’t bring himself to turn it off. Still clutching the pillow to his chest, Rung leaned forward, tugged the mat under his thighs out flat, and snagged the remote, clicking ahead to the part he’d come here for.

The dark mech on-screen smiled and brushed a thumb over his partner’s modesty plating. “You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you? So shy and lovely…”

The blue bot under him let out a quiet groan that seemed to indicate that the petting had been going on for quite a while. The visible flickers of charge that skittered over his plating from time to time confirmed it. 

“You sound so sweet when you moan like that.” Another rub. “Please, don’t stop.”

Rung’s engines whined as they kicked into a higher gear. His hand traced lower, ghosting over his covered interface array to play with the seams.

“Yes, just like that. So… mm, so  _ gorgeous.” _

The blue mech bucked up against him. A hand on his shoulder stilled him and neatly framed a Decepticon badge, though the mech hovering over him wore the Autobrand. 

Doubtless there was a similar vid where the badges were reversed, and one where they were both one or the other. The thought did nothing to help Rung’s fading charge-- he knew it was staged, but he didn’t want the reminder-- and he raked his hand over his thigh in irritation, seeking a cluster of wires in his hip. A pair of fingers slipped into the gap in his plating and yanked at those wires in a way that had him arching up against his own hand. It helped, but not enough.

Rung slumped back with an annoyed sigh. His charge was high enough that he wouldn’t be comfortable again until he burned some of it off, but at this rate that would take all night. He toyed with the wires in his hip, sighed again when it didn’t help, and reluctantly withdrew an emulator from his subspace. He’d been meaning to get rid of it for a few thousand years, but… once more wouldn’t hurt. Pushing aside the thought that there’d been a few dozen such “once more”s in the past, he plugged in the emulator and fired it up.

Unseen hands slid up his thighs and settled in at his hips, and skillful fingers darted in to pluck at his cabling. Behind his modesty plating his valve surged back to life and his engine revved so sharply it startled him. Rung clamped a hand over his mouth as the emulator continued its gentle petting; it wasn’t enough to completely muffle the quiet whimpers and needy moans that escaped his vocalizer His face warmed to an almost painful degree as his modesty plating folded aside at a particularly loud moan from the holovid. After a moment he drew his shaky hand away from his face and slipped a pair of fingers down to his already primed valve, swiftly coaxing biolights to flare and glitter in the dim room. He glanced over a particularly sensitive bit of mesh and clamped down on the pillow over his chest.

“How does that feel?” the grey mech on-screen purred. “Do you like that, sweetspark?”

Rung abandoned his efforts to keep the pillow in place over his sparkglass in favor of slapping a hand back over his mouth. The pillow slipped down to rest against his raised thigh and the light from his spark surged forward to fill the room.

“No, don’t hide it,” the bot purred, drawing the blue mech’s hand away from his mouth. “Please, let me hear you, you sound so beautiful. I want to know if you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

His array twitched, internal calipers clenching down on nothing. With a shaky vent, he gently pressed a digit into his valve, brushing up and past the outer rim in one fluid motion. A few moments later, a second finger desperately joined the first, curling together and pressing out against a particularly sensitive node. His cry was only partially muffled by the hand over his mouth. The emulator played over his hips again, brushing against his plating with a feather-light touch. His hips twitched up into it and unseen hands gently pressed him back into the berth. They ghosted lower, stopping just short of his array, and danced back up, tracing out each seam in his plating.

The blue mech whined pitifully, vocalizer sounding like it was on the edge of shorting out. “I am, I  _ am, _ it feels s-- it feels so  _ good--”  _

The big mech chuckled, pressing down on his modesty plating and giving it a little teasing rub. “Oh, you’re so warm, sweetspark. Open up for me? I want to see how pretty you are.”

Rung shifted, rolling the heel of his hand over his anterior node, and choked out some static. Close enough. He dropped his hand away from his mouth, no longer caring. At that point, he was overwhelmed with chasing an overload. 

The was a quiet click from the vidscreen as the blue mech’s panels finally retracted.

“Oh, that’s just perfect. You’re such a good, beautiful mech.”

His optical input glitched out and made the room slide sideways in view as his spinal strut went tight in overload. Charge crackled over his frame, bleeding out from his array and tinging the air briefly with sharp scent of ozone. It faded as the charge began to dissipate. As his auditory sensors rebooted, he caught the tail end of the ‘Con’s overload and the quiet rumbling of his partner’s engine.

“How was that, sweetspark?”

Still hazy in the aftermath of an overload, Rung whispered his own static-laced reply. “Wonderful.”

The grey bot chuckled at whatever reply he’d heard and ran a hand over his partner’s hip. The emulator mimicked the movement and Rung leaned into it.

“Want to go again?”

“Mm-hmm. Would you spike me this time?”

“Of course.” He smiled. “Anything for you.”

Rung tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. The touch of the emulator drifted lower, flirting with the seams in his array and brushing against the fingers still buried in his valve. He withdrew them, idly wiping the mess off on the towel under his thighs. There’d be no real harm in another round…

Mind made up, he stretched out a foot, trying to hook the little remote for the vidscreen and drag it towards him; he knew from experience that the next bit would be louder than the current quiet praise. He only succeeded in knocking the remote further down the berth and for a moment he debated getting up to grab it. But a louder moan from the vidscreen had his valve clenching down in search of stimulation and he decided to leave it where it was. No one ever came down that way, and even if they did they’d need to be pressed against the door to hear it at all. 

“Oh, you feel so good,” the grey mech purred. “Are you okay? It doesn’t hurt?”

“Nuh--” A moan interrupted him. “No… feels good…”

His hand shot back to his array. He was determined to work himself over a little more slowly this time, no matter how pleasant the emulator felt as it stroked against his spike housing. After a moment, Rung canceled that function of the emulator. He wanted a slow overload this time; it was more--

He forced himself away from that line of thinking. Dwelling on what he lacked wouldn’t help.

Rung sighed and reactivated the programing. The hands returned to his housing and he let the piece online and extend, shuttering his optics as fingers turned to it and began to stroke. His helm dropped back as he slumped even lower against the berth and he slipped a finger back into his valve with little resistance, relishing the steady drag over his sensors. He pulled back and added a second finger, forcing the digit past the rim of his valve and ignoring the warning ping his systems sent him. His sensors were still running on high alert from the last overload and activating them again so soon after almost hurt. It was a deep, delicious burn, and one he intended to savor for as long as he could. Rung began to ease his fingers apart, perhaps sooner than he should have. It wasn’t  _ enough. _

The emulator twisted gently around his spike and he almost came undone. The fingers in his valve stilled as a heated moan escaped him, low and filthy.

“That’s it, beautiful,” the grey mech on-screen murmured. “Can you overload for me?”

Rung felt his spike twitch desperately in the emulator’s grip. He was panting now as he rubbed fervently over internal sensor clusters in time with the moans of the onscreen pair. Charge began to skitter over his plating again as an overload drew nearer.

He was so  _ close…  _

He clamped a hand over his mouth, small beads of cleanser welling up at the corners of his optics as the emulator shifted and rubbed against the base of his spike. It twiched again, dripping transfluid over his plating. His valve was nearly leaking at that point and made it hard to maintain consistent pressure on the nodes as lubricant flowed freely, sending his fingers slipping around to snag on sensitive mesh. He would have looked an absolute mess had there been anyone there to see him, rutting frantically against his own hand and bucking up against an emulator. Lubricants dripped down his thighs to stain the mat below, his helm was thrown back, and his mouth hung open. With a harsh cry, Rung brought himself to a desperate overload and the dispulsion of charge nearly knocked him offline. His frame seized up, plating knocking together before he collapsed back against the berth, chest heaving as his systems forced air in and out in an attempt to return him to a more normal range of temperature. The last of his charge crackled away. 

The emulator faded out with a last few strokes as his spike recessed back into its housing, leaving behind a spill of transfluid over his plating. The pair on-screen had also apparently wound down, collapsing into a pile of limbs. He fished a cleaning cloth out of his subspace and began drowsily rubbing the mess away, basking in the warmth of an overload and the quiet praise from the vidscreen. He tugged the lubricant-spattered towel out from under himself and tossed it onto the floor; dealing with it could wait until the morning.

The gentle contentment had almost lulled him into recharge when the voices from the vid changed.

“Redshift, sweetspark, how are you doing? Not too sore?”

Rung went rigid at the intimacy in the name. His frame felt hot and cold by turns as his fans stuttered to a halt and he lunged for the remote. He managed to pause the vid and it froze on a close-up shot of the pair. The genuine warmth in their optics was hard to look at for long, and it was even harder to look at their intertwined frames. He scrambled to turn it off completely, unwanted tears pricking at his optics. The feed finally cut out and for a moment, he was left staring at his own shocked reflection in the dark screen before it folded itself away.

The pair knew each other, they were-- were  _ partners. _ Rung choked back the ridiculous sob that lodged itself in his vocalizer at the realization and clamped a hand still stained with lubricant over his mouth.

He felt sick and grimy, but he knew a run through the washracks wouldn’t get rid of this kind of filth. His tank wound tight, threatening to relieve him of his evening ration. It was painfully obvious, in retrospect; the filming was clumsy and the pair had a comfort to them that came from something far more intimate than simply a shared work history. 

They were  _ bonded.  _

He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears were dripping off his fingers and onto his chest. He deleted the file, ripped out the emulator, scrubbed his hands clean, and fell into a fitful recharge alone, muffling the light from his sparkglass with a pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> I..... don't have an excuse for this. But hey, if you made it this far, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> @starscrearn on twitter and @of-the-pious-pools on tumblr if you want to hit me up!


End file.
